


"Collectively and decisively."

by harcourt



Category: All New X-Factor, X-Factor (Comics)
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, post anxf #11
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-20
Updated: 2014-11-20
Packaged: 2018-02-26 10:17:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2648384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harcourt/pseuds/harcourt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The team tries their hand at support and concern, but Gambit's not playing, and Pietro really doesn't have that kind of patience.</p>
            </blockquote>





	"Collectively and decisively."

"Will you at least," Lorna says, "Put some pants on?"

In the face of crisis, it's nice to know that the team will, inevitably, focus on irrelevant side issues. It's not useful, not in any way, but the reliability is comforting. Even if Remy looks like he's in not-great shape, now that things have slowed down and they've all mostly settled into grumbling and stewing things over in their kitchen.

"You've all seen it all anyway," Remy grunts, realistic, pragmatic, or just plain unwilling to move. He still has his uniform jacket draped over his shoulders, and his slouch isn't nearly as relaxed as he's trying to pretend. The hunch to his shoulders is a little self-protective, and emphasized by the yellow patches on the jacket's shoulders. From where Pietro's standing, its wide collar is mostly hiding Remy's face.

"There are _minors_ here," Lorna goes on, just to argue. Remy huffs.

" _Minor_ ," he corrects, but doesn't move. "And she's not _right_ here."

And she's a minor who just saw her newly discovered parents obliterated, and so probably has other priorities than Gambit semi-nudity just then. Pietro doesn't add it, even though he's tempted, just because butting in to others' arguments seems to be their thing. Their thing as a team. Just interjecting whatever they feel like, whenever they feel like, until Lorna loses her patience.

Or Doug gets exasperated. There's something about getting on Doug's case that makes even Pietro feel like an asshole, so his attempts to shut them up are generally more effective than Lorna's.

Remy, on the other hand, is fair game. Is usually fair game. Is usually going out of his way to _make it_ a game. Now, though, he's just leaning his elbows on the kitchen table, and his head on his hands, not adding more commentary. Face further obscured by hair and laced fingers and bulky hand guards. His jacket is riding up enough that it's not really doing much for modesty. Pietro's tempted to make a comment about Remy's naked butt and getting it off the kitchen furniture, but he doesn't. In light of the day they've all had, it seems a little unnecessary. 

In light of the day _Gambit's_ had, especially, maybe, even though the kid--the Dakei kid--had arguably had a worse one, with Doug maybe giving them both a run for their money if Pietro expands the time frame and counts the dehydration thing.

"If anyone's hungry?" Doug tries, hanging back. Already changed into the stupid cable knit sweater it's not really cold enough for. Like he thinks he can insulate himself or them from his potential evil. It's kind of funny. Doug's the nicest of the lot of them, probably, if they don't count cats and robots.

"Nah. Jus' want t'sleep," Remy says, but doesn't move. 

"Bathroom's clear," Doug offers, and gives Pietro a pointed look that's completely unnecessary. And unfair, considering Lorna washing her hair is what causes the most delay. 

Other than Remy washing _his_ hair, though Pietro suspects that's mostly Remy just being an ass. Either to annoy him, or Lorna, or both of them at once for the sake of efficiency.

"You do kind of stink," Lorna says, helpfully. Pietro can tell by her weirdly gentle tone that that's the effect she's going for. She's not great at it.

"T'anks." Remy says, muffled.

"Are you feeling sorry for yourself, or are you having some kind of reaction we should be worried about?" Lorna goes on, more seriously, but still in that trying-to-be-supportive tone. This time Remy lifts his head enough to look at her. Pietro can make out the red of one eye through a gap between hair and jacket collar

"I'm okay," he says.

"I sent Pietro to get you," Lorna reminds him.

"She did," Pietro says, even though he's said this already, and he's not sure if that's what Gambit's really stuck on, but the guarded air isn't leaving him. "You got here first."

"Beat ya, huh?" 

Pietro can't see the smirk, but he can hear it. Even with post-battle, post-torture crash to contend with, Remy's not too wrung out to be an ass. Or he's just dedicated and powered by determination. "I was doing something," Pietro says, "else."

Remy snorts and waves a hand, dismissing the argument. "'ppreacite the thought," he says. "Now what's a guy gotta do t'get some coffee around here?"

"I can put some on," Doug offers at the same time that Lorna puts her hands on the table and leans across it to loom at Remy. 

"Go. To. Bed." She's gone from _concern_ to _team leader_ bossiness like flipping a switch. Pietro raises an eyebrow at her. Remy snorts again.

"Just one time, do what you're told. Just--one time, one of you."

"I was going to--" Pietro starts.

"Shut up," Lorna says. Then, "Remy,"

Remy drops his hands to the tabletop with dual thumps, mostly so he can give her an annoyed look. His hair is a tousled mess. Tangled and frizzed with electricity. "Eh," he says, and shrugs, "Been tortured b'fore."

It's not as reassuring as he probably means it to be. Also because he's been sitting in the kitchen in his jacket and his birthday suit for what Pietro figures has been a good hour now. At least. Maybe two. Or he guesses, anyway. Judging time can be a little iffy, post-battle rush.

"Should be looking after the kid," Remy tells Lorna.

"She wants to be left alone." Doug leans in long enough to set a mug in Remy's reach, then straightens again and makes space. "You can't blame her."

"I don't." Remy smiles his thanks. Turning his Gambit charm onto Doug by reflex, and if Remy hadn't spent the afternoon being shackled and electrocuted, Pietro would hit him. "We fucked this one up, huh?"

"Collectively and decisively. Yes."

"But maybe for the better," Lorna adds.

Remy sips coffee. _Hm_ -s into his mug. 

"Stop moping," Pietro tells him.

"I'm not."

"You are."

"I'm _not_."

Remy sets the coffee mug down with a thunk, almost but not quite sloshing hot liquid over his hand. Turning in his chair to glare before Pietro can counter again. He doesn't. Instead, he puts his hands on Remy's shoulders, not really in support, but more to get close to the big stupid collar of his jacket.

Remy catches on almost right away. "Don't you dare--" he starts, but the rest it is lost as Pietro gets a firm handful of leather in each hand and _yanks_.

It's harder to move Remy from a standstill, when Pietro's not catching him up pre-accelerated. Acrobatic as Remy might be, compared to some, he's still got more bulk than Pietro, and it takes some effort to get enough speed to overcome his inertia.

After that, it's easy. Remy barely having time to catch up before Pietro comes to a halt in the bathroom and just kind of chucks him out of his jacket and into the tub. Turning the water on high a second later.

Remy sputters and throws his arms up to shield his face, disoriented, then figures out where he is and what's happened, and snaps, "Hey!"

Pietro throws the jacket out the door, into the hall for someone else to pick up.

"Stop moping." Pietro repeats. This time, Remy just swears, quietly and under his breath as he ducks his head under the stream. Still sitting sprawled in the bottom of the tub.

"Guys?" Doug asks, from out in the hall. "Everything okay?"

"Fine," Pietro says, and grabs a bottle of shampoo to toss at Remy. He's not looking, so it hits him in the head before bouncing off his shoulder and falling into the space between his legs.

Remy glares at it, and looks like he has a lot of opinions to share, but then settles on "Thanks," saying it casually, like Pietro had handed the bottle over politely.

"Wash. Do you need someone to watch you?"

"I'm not _dying_ ," Remy snaps, and pours too much shampoo into his hand in irritation. It's Lorna's. The fruity smell of something tropical and artificially sweet fills the air. Remy scrubs it one-handed into his hair, leaning back to get his head out of the way of the water while he does it. "I just got a little zapped. A _little_ zapped."

There's marks on his arms and chest. Around his wrists. They're faint, and nothing serious. Remy keeps talking, saying, "I don't need _babysitting_ or--help. Is this supposed to be help?" as he scrubs at his head, but Pietro stays anyway. The same way Doug stays lingering out in the hall, trying to be unobtrusive while he watches Pietro watch Remy.

Remy clicks the shampoo bottle closed and throws it back out, aiming sloppily at Pietro. He catches it easily, but water scatters off it and hits his face and shirt and hair, making him sputter. Remy laughs but he reaches for soap, either coming out of whatever sulk or funk he'd been in or going into automatic pilot. Pietro turns away to set the shampoo aside and to give him some privacy. 

A minute later, there's a clatter, and Remy says, "Avert your delicate eyes. I'm comin' out," and as Pietro turns, another clatter and then the hollow thump of bone on tub. Probably an elbow. Maybe a knee. "Ow. Or not. Hell."

It's harder to haul Remy to his feet at normal speed and when he's wet and slippery and not wearing anything to get a grip on. It's a good thing Doug's been hanging around, because he's what catches Pietro when Remy stumbles them both into a close fall.

"How many does it take--?" Doug jokes, bracing until Pietro finds his balance and in turn, finds Remy's for him.

"Whoa," Remy says, "I didn't feel that weird before."

"Is everything okay in there?" Lorna yells, from far enough away that she might actually be shouting at them from the kitchen.

Pietro yells, “Fine," back at her, and Remy follows it with, 

"Wouldn't you like t'know?" Managing to load it with innuendo even though he doesn't even really have his own feet under him. Pietro considers dropping him, but they're still close to the tub, and Lorna would probably blame the potential head injury on him if it turned out that way.

"Grab that towel." Pietro suggests instead, because Gambit's hair is dripping on him.

"That's not even mine." Remy protests.

"I don't care. Nobody cares. Just use it."

"I don't want to hear complaints about this later," Remy grumbles, "If this turns out like the toothbrush thing--" and trails off, but reaches to drag it off the towel rack, then dries his face with it before scrubbing at his hair. Clumsy and slow enough that it's irritating. At least he thinks to make himself decent without prompting, wrapping the towel around his hips before accepting the jacket Doug's picked up off the hallway floor and tucks back over his shoulders.

"Thanks."

Pietro's pretty sure he has his balance now, so he gives Remy a little shove away from him.

"Don't super speed me," Remy threatens, bracing. 

"Floor's wet. It's a slipping hazard."

Both Remy and Doug look at him like they're not sure if he's serious. He isn't, but if they think the water Gambit's tracked around and some scattered soap suds are enough to slow him down, they're welcome to believe it. "Come on."

"I'm coming with _you_?" Remy asks, letting himself be steered back into the hall, where it turns out there's a gathering of Lorna, robots, and one of the cats. "Looks t'me like--"

"Shut up."

"Watch the cat," Doug adds, as it comes over to wind around their feet.

That extra little bit of madness makes Pietro grit his teeth. He kind of suspects that that's why Remy keeps the animals around--just for the sake of adding to the chaos. "This never happens with the Avengers," he says, when they inevitably almost trip on the cat anyway --Figaro? Lucifer? He still hasn't got them straight.

"You should go tell them about it." That's pretty close to automatic response. Remy looks like he's finally catching up to the fact that the day's caught up to him, and has decided to crash for real. He looks like he's half asleep on his feet.

Pietro tells him, "Shut up" again anyway, and pulls Remy's jacket up from where it's slipping off his shoulders. It still smells like smoke. _Remy_ smells like a fake, candy version of passion fruit. Lorna opens her mouth to make a comment, but Pietro cuts her off with "If you want to take care of him, you can," before she can get the first word out. 

The offer makes her think better of it, and she raises both hands in a _peace_ gesture, mouth snapping shut. It's a bit satisfying. In a childish kind of way, maybe. "No. Go ahead. You look like you've got it."

"Jesus," Remy says, "I can get myself to bed, you know."

 _Can_ and _will_ are two entirely different things, but Pietro doesn't mention it. Just prods Remy down the hall and to his room, where the other two cats join them and get underfoot. "Hey, kitties," Remy tells them, then to Pietro, "Could you--?"

"Yes, I'll feed your stupid cats. Go to bed."

"Doug knows where--"

"Doug would."

Remy doesn't respond to that other than to give him a look, shrugging out of his jacket and leaving it in a tangle on the edge of his bed, already barely hanging and halfway to fallen on the floor. The towel gets tossed with even less ceremony. No attempt to hang it at all, or even to throw it in the laundry before Remy drops to sit heavily on the bed, his hair a damp tangle of impossible angles. It's not really an improvement on earlier, looks wise.

It only takes a part of a second for Pietro to gather up the cats, and then he stands there a little awkwardly with his arms full of meowing protestors. "I'm putting them outside," he tells Remy, in response to his amused smirk, "Unless you want them to bother you."

Remy's smirk gets a little more amused, but he doesn't say anything. Just tilts over and gets to pulling the covers over himself while Pietro frowns, still holding the squirming cats. "Sorry we left you behind," he says, when Remy doesn't say anything else, and mostly in response to the silence. 

"Accident," Remy mumbles. _Grumbles_ , maybe.

"I really was going to come back and get you."

"I know."

"Lorna wanted me to." Pietro adds, just because.

"Sure."

Pietro hesitates a second more, then goes, releasing the cats into the hall even though they'll get into everyone's things and annoy Lorna, then closes the door behind him. Outside, the crowd's thinned down to just Lorna and Doug.

"Everything alright?" Lorna asks.

"Yeah," Pietro says, "But Doug gets to feed the cats and you get to look after the kid. I did my part."

"I helped," Doug says, but it's a friendly tease. Doug's really not caught on to the team dynamic. 

"You," Pietro tells him again, a little more firmly, "get to feed the cats."


End file.
